


Shot Shot Shot (Shot Shot Shot)

by witkneec



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 2nd Person, Body Shots, Drunk Sex, F/F, Pre-Relationship, do not read if you are one of the following: kat barrell, forgive me mufasa for i have sinned, yes this is just more porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:09:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witkneec/pseuds/witkneec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your lust and tequila addled brain try to comprehend the situation at hand and all you can really muster is the beginning of the evening- the accidental meeting of yourself and Wynonna at Shorty’s and her invitation to sit with them- them being Doc, herself, and Waverly who smiled bashfully at you with full blushing cheeks- and then the drinking. God, the drinking. </p><p>or,</p><p>Everyone is drunk. Wynonna suggests body shots. Nicole gets laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shot Shot Shot (Shot Shot Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all of the feedback on my other Wayhaught fic, I really appreciate all the love. This ignores anything post car convo of Ep 9 because I like the fics in which people get together so here we go. All the mistakes are mine and I'm a little drunk so apologies. Anyway, let me know what you think. And to all of the people wanting a Nicole POV fic... here you go.

You don’t know what you’re doing. 

You don’t know what in the living fuck you are doing and what is going on but God, you don’t really want it to stop.

Your lust and tequila addled brain try to comprehend the situation at hand and all you can really muster is the beginning of the evening- the accidental meeting of yourself and Wynonna at Shorty’s and her invitation to sit with them- them being Doc, herself, and Waverly who smiled bashfully at you with full blushing cheeks- and then the drinking. God, the drinking. 

You weren’t a light weight, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Wynonna- you swear that girl had to be 99% alcohol because she had never even given any indication of being drunk at all on round number 6 while you had been very pleasantly buzzed and close to drunk- and Waverly’s thigh (pleasantly wedged against your own) was growing ever warmer with every passing moment, every passing sip.

And when the eldest Earp got up to go to the bathroom, Doc following closely behind to then head to the bar for another round, you’d turned to Waverly, all open, bleary eyes and slightly lazy smirk.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier, Miss Earp, but you look absolutely divine today.”

And you’d commended yourself on the words when she’d blushed further and tucked her head bashfully and let out a laugh that you could only be described as a giggle, her shoulder knocking into yours in response. But she didn’t move away from you after that, her body flush with yours, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. Not when Wynonna returned back from the bathroom, not when Doc came back with drinks and Wynonna had nearly leapt out of her seat in her desperate grab for hers. Not when the bell rang for last call. Not until Wynonna and Doc had anted up and paid the tab and Wynonna had put her hand on your shoulder with a serious expression before yanking you up and out of the booth, away from your current comfortable spot next to her baby sister and declared that you were returning back to the Earp homestead to continue the night of debauchery with more tequila and more conversation.

Gus had piled you all- giggling (and in Doc’s case, grumbling)- over an off color remark Wynonna had made and driven you the short distance to the house and if Waverly had leaned her head on your shoulder and clenched her fingers around your bicep in the small space of the backseat, well, you had pretended not to notice. As you piled out, slightly stumbling, you’d watched her enter into the homestead, smiling as she’d looked back at you seemingly unconsciously and nodded her head for you to follow inside. 

And then- the drinking. God, so much more drinking. 

Tequila shots and salt and lime and laughing and Waverly’s hand- growing ever bolder and skyrocketing your pulse- warm on your thigh beneath the kitchen table. Somehow a casual conversation had led to a game of “never have I ever”, a game you hadn’t even fucking thought of since your college days, and well, then Wynonna had zeroed in on you and your newly revealed lesbianism on a previous question (seriously- she had the gaydar of corpse) and then, well-

That hand on your thigh had moved to the inside of it and the lightly soothing circles had turned to long scratching with petulant fingers and then- then a throw away statement ( “never have I ever done body shots”) had led to, well-

That’s where things all get a little hazy because Wynonna had already stood you up before laying you down on the bottle littered table and unbuttoned the bottom four buttons of your shirt before you could ever begin to comprehend what was going on and you barely had any idea of your surroundings because Waverly was arguing with your sister in a slightly slurred voice and smacking her lightly on her bare arm and you thought that all the talk about body shots had gone out the window, your whirring brain so foggy and slow with the liquor and drunk on the brunette’s proximity that you stayed prone on the table admiring the younger woman’s figure.

But the chatter had grown quiet and then holy shit, Waverly was pushing you back with a guilty but pleased smile and Wynonna was tipping the bottle of tequila down your stomach and watching it pool in the shallowness of you bellybutton and holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck Waverly Earp’s tongue was skating over the the flatness of your stoamch before dipping into your belly button. And the heat and the fire of it all- you'd had to bite your lips to stem the moan from spilling out. 

Long moment later Waverly had stood up, her eyes on yours- deep and God, you think- maybe filled with something like desire and want before Wynonna had been slapping her on the back with a heavy laugh and a whoop and shoving a lime wedge into the unsuspecting younger woman’s mouth. You'd tried not to watch her mouth as she sucked the lime in, her cheeks hollowing and her lips twisting with the sourness. 

And after that the night had pretty much ended because it was all Waverly could do to get closer to you and Wynonna had pretty much passed out, the alcohol she had been consuming throughout the evening finally catching up to her and even though she’d said she could get back to bed, well, Doc had led her the opposite way out into the dark night, their laughs echoing through the entry way and then out into the cold winter air. 

Then, then it had just been you both. 

Alone. 

In the kitchen with a bottle of tequila, a simmering tension, and a half buttoned shirt.

Your head had been thrumming with alcohol, you recollect. Alcohol and Waverly Earp, smiling at you with a wicked glint in her eye from across the room where she was leaned against the kitchen counter trading the half empty bottle of tequila in her palms.  
A beat as you peered at each other. And when you went to speak, when you felt like it was all too much and you just needed to say something, needed to know anything she was willing to tell you what she was thinking, feeling-

But she was shaking her head and swinging her hips as she walked the short distance to you and you were gulping and summoning every ounce of courage the liquid had so far given you over the course of the evening. She stopped in front of you with that honey slow smile and those glassy eyes and if you weren’t before, you were gone gone gone.

And she was speaking and your eager ears were perking and absorbing every word.

“You know, I feel pretty robbed. You, Wynonna, you’ve both had body shots taken off of you. And I never have.”

And yeah, you were drunk and you were pretty sure that your every sense was impaired but you could swear that Waverly Earp is saying that she wanted you to lick tequila off of her body-

You were blinking and the image in front of you was still a smiling and sultry brunette holding the bottle out in question and she was saying-

“Wanna change that?”

-and you really remember thinking that then and there you could die a happy, happy (gaygaygay) woman but all that really followed after her words was your heavy nodding head and before you really knew what was going on, Waverly Earp had mimicked your earlier position on the table and she was- oh shit- shaking salt over her exposed shoulder- salt that sticks to the sweat slicked skin- before lifting her shirt to reveal a toned and muscled stomach- and shoving a wedge as delicately as possible in between her still smirking lips so the rind in between her teeth and the flesh is facing out to you, inviting you to sink your teeth into it.

You’re sure you were staring stupidly, mouth agape, eyes bugged, but her pulling hand encourages you and before you know what you’re doing, your lips have puckered against the salt flecked skin of her shoulder, your breath puffing against her for a moment longer than necessary before she was smirking around the lime and raising her eyebrows in challenge and then you were tipping the bottle with slighly shaking hands and watching the liquor splash her stomach before swirling down into her belly button.

You had caught her eyes and she gave you a miniscule nod and you released the breath you hadn't realized you were holding in one long and heady exhale and then you were hovering over her and trying to ignore the way her right hand planted itself into the back of your head, the soft tendrils of hair at the nape of your neck, seemingly guiding you ever closer.

And then your mouth was on Waverly Earp’s warm skin and your tongue was tracing the contours of her defined ribs, muscles and delighting in the hitch of breath, the rattle in her chest you felt as you slowly ventured down to lap down into the deep indent in her belly, the taste of the tequila an afterthought as you took far longer than you probably should have but God the way it all felt- the tingle of her skin beneath your greedy tongue, the way her hands twisted and pulled into your hair, the way her lips gasped even around the wedge- it felt so good and so wrong but then your eyes met hers and her hands were tugging you up and you’re only really focused on the darkness of her blown out pupils, the rapid up and down of her barely covered chest and you didn’t really know what you were doing- all you knew is that you were traveling up her body and you were not really moving as much as you were being led and somewhere in the short circuiting of your brain and the pounding ache between your legs you realized that you’d only completed steps two of three in the body shot process and a smile flicked upon your lips as you finally reached your (and Waverly’s) desired destination and began the slow descent down to the fruit trapped in between those pink and puffing lips. Another flick of her eyebrow- another challenge- before you were leaning down to suck the lime into your mouth.

But somewhere in the may lay, somewhere between the closing of your eyes, the lime had been lost and instead of a surge of citrus on your tequila laden tongue, you had felt the slip slide of hers against you, the crush of her lips and the curve of her smile as she curled her fingers around your shoulders and pulled, the groaning when your hands came up to brace beside her head and then your hips were nestled in the cradle of her own and God- she was kissing you like she’d been starving for you.

And then you’d been trying to scramble away because your brain had finally sort of come to and you realized that -holy shit- this was Waverly Earp and you were at her house on her fucking table of all things and just a few weeks ago she had been telling you she only wanted to be friends and so you’re trying to lift up and off of her body but she’s just kissing you and kissing and] you were powerless to really stop it and to be honest you also just didn’t fucking want to so you settled with gasping brokenly into her mouth with words peppered in intermittently.

“God- Waves- maybe- maybe- we should- maybe we should- stop.”

And you feel the groan leave her throat before you hear it and her petulance makes you smile.

She'd just kissed you harder- lips parting and panting and making way for, God, that beautiful tongue that traced your bottom lip before slipping in and tangling with you own.

“Or maybe-“

Her words were punctuated by her legs- so strong and gripped so tightly- wrapping around your hips and then- Jesus Christ- a roll of her own.

“Maybe- you could just move with me?”

And she was grinning a wicked grin and wrapping her arms once more around your shoulders, drawing you down so you were breast to breast and belly to belly and your hips were flush and for a moment her words confused you and paralyzed you but then she began to rock against you, her crotch pushing into yours and she swallowed your heady, needy gasp with her own panting mouth and that’s how it began- all strangled groans and curses and swimming in sensation as her hands moved down a serpentine spine, sparks of pleasure created in their wake. 

It was all so much- so, so much- and you could feel her breathing into your mouth and shaking against your searching, frantic hips, and you were so close already and it was ridiculous because you were barely touching but then- then a strong hand was tugging your hair and another was planting itself firmly in the center of your chest and you were frozen once more, simply letting yourself move with the momentum of the push.

Then you were upright and standing on rickety legs and blinking lust soaked eyes and watching as her shaking hands came up to the lapels of your shirt- the plaid button down with soft green stripes that you knew accentuated your eyes- and then the top three buttons, the only ones that were actually fastened in their respective holes- before her hands were yanking at the fabric, the sounds of ripping reaching your ears a second before you felt it actually give way and slip down your arms. And you were trying to tell her in the midst of the lust and the chaos and the disappearance of your shirt that it was fucking great- more than great, unimaginable, dream-like if you will- but you didn’t want all of it to be chalked up to a drunken mistake in the morning but then she was breaking away from your lips and putting an inch or so between you both and flicking her eyes down your chest and smiling that truly wicked smile and then growing serious as her hands came out to skim along your bare sides before coasting up to tentatively thumb at the bottom of the fabric of your bra and biting a lip between those pearly teeth and God- 

You were gasping out a ragged and surprised “Waverly! Jesus!” because her hands were reaching up to unhook the latch of your bra with a slightly fumbling but ultimately successful motion and letting the item fall down the length of your arms before meeting your glazed eyes with her own and, with a heavy and open mouth, whispered a slightly desperate utterance of your name and it sounded like a question and you didn’t really know what she was asking but you knew you’d do anything she’d ask at that moment so you’d just started nodding, her hands making your head drop altogether with a stuttered moan moments later when both of those bold and brazen hands cupped your bare breasts.

She was kissing you and it was so open and wet and fucking messy and desperate but also so so glorious and hot and it’s all you could do just to moan into her greedy mouth, push into her insistent fingers and probing palms and surrender to the white noise and pulsing pressure behind your ribcage as you as she kisses and kisses and kisses you.

You were groaning into her mouth and shifting your hips, desperate for more contact, god, any contact, when you felt her hands on those needy bones and she never stopped moving her lips over yours, never stopped twisting her tongue over and under yours but her fingers gripped and her arms pushed and before you knew it, you were up against the edge of the table, your knees buckling moments later at the hardness of it jabbed right into the crook of them and you were falling back and your shoulders were gritting into the oak- and then you were staring up at her staring down at you and-

That’s the situation you currently find yourself in.

You, Nicole Haught, on your back on the Earp’s kitchen table, a little drunk, naked from the waist up and being devoured by Waverly Earp’s eyes. 

There’s a moment- and then she’s reaching down and tracing a soft thumb over your open and panting lips and you want so badly to speak, to tell her of yes, the desire and the wanting, but also the fear that you have that this- the impulse and the acting on the want in the midst of all the alcohol- could fuck everything up between you both and you are so head over heels for this woman that the idea of it twists your heart in a painful vice like clutch- but just as you’re readying the words and tensing your muscles to lean up so you can speak to her, her words ring out in the kitchen instead. They are breathy and soft but edged with a huskiness that goes to add to the thrumming in-between your thighs.

“I- I need you to know. That I’ve been thinking about this since I met you. I need you to know that I’m not doing this because I’m drunk but because- because for weeks I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to tell you- or, you know- show you how I felt- feel- about you and Nicole- Nicole, I’ve wanted you so badly. Want you so badly. And it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way- I mean, if you don’t this is all a little confusing so I’m also pretty sure you do, but- Nicole. I don’t want to be friends. I want- to touch you. I want you to touch me. I- I want you. “

And the laugh that spills out of your mouth startles you both and you regret it the moment it’s out there because it twists a confused line over the younger woman’s brow.

“Hey, no,” you’re saying, trying to eliminate the mirth from your voice, “I just- I’m happy. Surprised after the whole “just friends” thing but- happy, Waves. Because I- I want you, too.”

She looks into your eyes, the line less prominent but still present. You take a deep breath and tilt your head, keeping eye contact. You draw your lips over her hand, once then twice, trying to reassure her.

“I want you so much.”

Her face relaxes and you feel the tightness in your chest dissipate with it.

And then all of the humor, all of the smiles and the laughter are out of the room because she’s panting and you’re panting and there’s a heaviness in the air that you want so badly to settle but you want her to make the first move, want her to shatter it all and when she does- when she leans down that little bit and her open mouth meets your open mouth and she begins to plunder it endlessly with wanton kisses and a searching, daring tongue- you swear to God sparks ignite in your brain and starts a fire into your chest before shooting out the ends of your toes and fingers and you moan and she moans and the vibration only adds to your ever growing need.

She’s settling over your body and moving once more and her hands are back to cupping your breasts and her mouth has traveled the small distance from your mouth to your neck, nipping down the smooth skin she finds there, going down and then shifting up, engulfing the studded lobe of your ear.

The “oh fuck” she whispers into it shoots straight in between your legs because it’s breathy and it’s in response to the pebbling of your nipples under the somewhat calloused pads of her fingers and you’re squirming underneath her trying to gain some semblance of friction and muttering an almost silent “please” more times than you count and she’s smiling against you and moving her hands down your stomach and gasping as her nails scrape and your abs flex in response.

“Nicole- God, you’re beautiful.”

You want to respond, want to dispute her claim or at least counter with your own admission of how you thought she was the most beautiful person you had ever seen but at the last exhale of her words, her hands had moved to the button of your jeans and you sort of forget to breathe altogether.

She’s pausing and looking at you and yeah she seems a little nervous but when she cocks her head and raises her eyebrow and says, “you should take these off,” it’s steadfast and strong and flirtatious and you whimper because yes- yes that’s exactly what you should do and you can’t believe this is happening- that Waverly fucking Earp is looming over you and telling you to take your clothes off and fuck you’ve imagined this, like, a million times since you met the woman, you never imagined It would be like this- Waverly pushing down on you and peeling the jeans down your legs and tracing and scraping her fingers down the crease of your thigh and gasping as the wetness of you, already almost soaking through your underwear, catches the edge of her fingertips.

“Nicole- can I- please?”

And you don’t answer as much as grunt and nod your head because, again, hell yes, and before you know which way is up, your underwear are around your ankles and then on the kitchen floor and you’re opening your legs and thanking God for tequila because yeah, it gave Waverly the liquid courage to finally act on her (seemingly rather deep) feelings but also because it apparently really numbs her nerves, her hands ghosting over your thighs before pushing them apart to bare you before her eyes.

You’re looking up at her with hooded eyes and a bitten lip and simply stare as she scopes her eyes down your body, and you're finally wholly bare to her. Watch as she starts at your face, drifting down your chest and skateing down your flat stomach before coming to settle on the mostly recently revealed flesh. Watch as she swallows, her chest hitches, and her tongue comes out to lick the length of her lips.  
Long moments pass as she continues her perusal. You allow it until the look she’s giving you makes you physically ache and then you’re reaching for her and kissing her deeply and slowly and asking her to touch you.

She lets out a shuddering exhale at your words and mutters a slightly slurred “yesssss” and scraping her fingers over your breasts, over your stomach, your hips. They tease at your thighs, drag along the lowest skin of your abdomen, so close to where you desperately want her, before drifting up to tease at your belly button. She kisses you when you huff in frustration and you growl slightly when you realize she’s smiling teasingly against your lips.

And you want to be sort of mad because you’re naked and wanting and she’s teasing but the thought doesn’t last long because she’s slipping a repentant tongue in your mouth and flicking yours once and then twice before breaking the lock of your lips and shifting down to the hard skin of your right nipple.

You hiss and catch your hands in her hair as warmth and wet engulfs the skin and spikes pleasure down your spine and a strangled groan leaves your throat and breaks out into the open air.

“Jesus, Waves- yes.”

And she’s humming against you and switching to the other hard nipple and palming your breast with a heavy hand and you’re twisting that long and silky hair between your fingers and canting your hips and trying to lock your legs around her waist but she’s not staying at your chest, holy shit, she’s moving down and mimicking her earlier actions when she had volunteered to lick tequila out of your belly button but this time- this time she takes her time without the preying and keen eyes of her sister and she’s scraping along your rips and the defined muscles of your stomach lightly with her teeth and you’re trying not to put your body has other ideas of its own and is pushing up into her mouth, your own panting mouth unable to utter a single thing except “please” and a strangled, broken version of her name.

She’s focued on her task, tongue skating out to dip lower and lower until she’s- God- she’s tracing the warms pads of her fingers in the insides of your thighs and looking up into your eyes and smiling softly as she drops to her knees, laying a soft kiss at your bent knee as she goes.

Your mouth feels like it could be a place where it would be ideal to grow cacti and your heart could probably double as a fucking conga drum but Waverly Earp is on her knees in front of you and getting ready to put her mouth on you (you think) and leaning her cheek on your bare thigh and you can’t help it, you trace your hand along her cheek and, fuck, you think, you actually swoon when she turns her head to kiss tenderly at the skin of your palm.

Then her eyes are gone and she’s leaning in and you can feel her hot breath against your clit and can feel her hands hot on your thighs, pressing them down and open and then- then warmth and a sharp shout and a jolt of pleasure as she swipes at your clit with the tip of her tongue. You grip your hands at the edge of the table, curling your fingers until they’re white, afraid to hurt her by threading your clenching fingers in her hair but God it’s like she hears you and when she snaps her eyes up to yours, her mouth working to lick and kiss and Jesus fuck suck at you clit, you feel the smirk but only feel yourself clenching as she takes her hands, never stopping the motion of her tongue, and threads them through yours, leading them to the back of her head with an encouraging slant of her brow. 

And you moan and it’s embarrassingly loud but holy fuck this is probably the hottest moment of your life and Waverly Earp is on her fucking knees and swiping her tongue over you and snaking it down to lick at the warm wetness at your entrance and you can feel the low sound- the almost silent “mmm” that leaves her lips and you’re so close already and your fingers are clenching so hard and you’re afraid that you’re hurting her but if anything- God, if anything, her breathing gets heavier, her pupils more blown out and glassy with every hard and desperate pull. And the idea that Waverly is getting off on this- on burying her tongue inside of you and tasting you while your fingers dig nad pull at her scalp-  
But the motions stop so you look down once more to find her looking up at you with a hard glint in her eye. And then she’s telling you that she wants to be inside of you and you’re nodding and whimpering and then she’s back to licking and sucking at your clit but she’s also pushing one and then two fingers inside of you and gasping at the feeling and telling you how much she likes being inside of you and you’re almost embarrassed because it only takes two hard thrusts and a curl of her steadfast and needy fingers, one more swirling rotation of her tongue against your aching clit before your hands are clutching her head to you and you’re closing your eyes and gasping out a ragged and shaken “Waverly oh- oh my God. Waverly!” and clenching around her fingers and spilling even more wetness out onto her tongue and coming harder than you think you ever have. 

And there’s a moment after where you’re almost paralyzed, all of your muscles and extremities relaxing and giving way until you’re simply boneless on the table, arms splayed out to the sides and mind dazed. You barely register the delighted laugh that spills out of her beautiful lips after she removes her fingers from you, soothing a soft thumb over your thigh when you shake as she completes the action.

You feel her moving up your body and you open your heavy eyes with a lazy but wide grin and say a soft “hi” as her face appears over yours, her fingers tracing over your face.  
“So-“

She looks down at you and she tries hard to fight it but a grin is threatening to break through her attempt at being stoic.

“Nicole. I have to tell you, I- think I might be kind of gay."

And it’s silent for a moment before you’re breaking into a fit of laughs and slapping lightly at the skin of her arm and then, then you’re not laughing anymore because you catch her face and watch as it becomes closer and closer until-

Until she’s sinking into you and opening her mouth to your open mouth and slipping her tongue inside and breathing so heavily and holy shit you can taste yourself upon her tongue and you whimper with the realization. And she’s moaning into your mouth and her body is now moving in a constant motion against yours and she’s trying to get some friction because in your post orgasmic haze you had somehow forgotten that you had yet to make Waverly come and goddamn if that wasn’t the most foolish thing you’d ever forgotten to you- mind blowing orgasm be or no. 

So you’re slipping a thigh between her own and letting her rut against it for long moments, the fabric of her shirt bunching with the movement. You don’t really think- simply slip your hands underneath the shirt and start to slip it over her head and shoulders with a simple and stern “off” before raking your hands down her newly exposed skin when the fabric is gone from her body and relishing in the warmth of her and the gasp your touch elicits when you scrape down her knobby rips with the tips of your blunt fingernails.

And she’s kissing you again and yeah this is Waverly the town sweetheart, but you’d describe it as nothing else but filthy and wanton and downright starving and her bra is gone moments later and you’re confused for a second but then you’re gasping into her mouth because you realize it’s her that removed the garment and her hands mirror her earlier actions and lace with your own but this time she’s guiding them to her breasts with a panting “please” directly into your mouth and she’s gasping and panting for another reason altogether because your left thumb is tracing over one of her nipples and your index finger and thumb of the other hand pinch the other and you delight in the sound- a stuttering groan- the reverberates into your throat. 

It’s lovely and hot and so fucking heady but it’s not enough and you leave one hand kneading her breast but the other goes to the zip and button of those little fucking jean shorts that looked like they were painted on and unfastening them pulling them down impossibly long and shapely legs despite her small stature and being aided by kicking feet and you know you should wait for her to take her underwear off too but Jesus she’s in a small pair of grey lace underwear and there’s a dark spot growing in-between her legs and you’re moaning and your hands are pulling and she’s panting out a confused

“Nicole- what-?”

But you don’t answer, simply move your hands up to you can grip her hips and guide her up so you can see, so you can just-  
Then she’s even with your mouth and settling over your face on her knees and it sounds like she’s hyperventilating so you figure she’s finally realized your intent and you’re mumbling a “come here” and moving your palms and fingers to grip at the firm globes of her ass and pushing her that little bit further down and then tracing your tongue over the dark, rough, fabric and concentrating especially hard on the spot that grows ever wetter, ever darker, with her arousal. And you want to ask her if this is okay because your lust is raging in you, yeah, and she just went down on you and made you come with her fingers, yeah, but you want her to be comfortable so you go to pull away but find yourself unable to, strong thighs suddenly clenched around your head.

“Please, God, Nicole. Don’t stop. I want you. Please.”

And a growl is coming out of your throat and you’re laving the material still but you don’t want to touch her over lace anymore you want to taste her and feel her clenching around your tongue so you tug at the unwelcome garment but she’s, like, sitting on your face and you want them gone but you also want her to stay right where she is and before you can voice your frustration, she’s reaching down and ripping at the sides of them and you’re taking her cue and aiding in the struggle and groaning when they finally give way, the gap between her bare clit and your searching tongue covered as soon as the useless and ruined scrap is pushed away and then you’re wrapping your hands around her thighs and flicking your tongue over her clit and delighting in the slow and steady grind she has started on your tongue from above you. You allow your it to dip down and find the source of the growing wetness on your lips, pushing once and then twice as far as it will possibly go inside of her before returning back to her hard and swollen clit and beginning your earlier pace anew.

And from there you simply let her drive the pace and the force, your tongue now mostly still, and Jesus Christ she’s riding it and your are hands clenching but otherwise flowing with her hips, the steady and increasingly hard rock of them, and it’s sort of difficult to breathe but so goddamn worth it because she’s cursing and one arm is out bracing her weight and rythym on the kitchen table and the other is palming her heaving breast and you groan at the image and she groans at the feel of your groan and holy shit- you can feel the moment she begins to come because, well, she tells you in a voice soaked in sex and need and want but she also begins to clench and stutter above you and you're holding down hard on her hips so your tongue can apply as much pressure as it can so she can ride it out every last pleasurable wave. 

It’s mostly silent after she stops shaking except for both of your panting in the hollow of the kitchen. But then she’s laughing that joyous and relieved laugh from before and crawling down your body and meeting your smirking and prideful lips with her own and moaning a little at the taste of herself of your lips this time and she cradles your cheek and you sigh and God is this what this could always feel like?

Later that evening, snuggled in the covers with Waverly Earp and trying to stop the slight spinning your vision adopted, you think that, okay, yeah, tomorrow morning was going to suck because tequila always gave you terrible hangovers and you’d consumed a fuck ton of it but you can’t bring yourself to care because although you were going to have a headache and cotton mouth and a rolling stomach, you were also going to wake up to a woman who you’d been wanting since the moment you saw her and maybe she’d let you kiss her and touch her again and maybe if you were really fucking lucky let you love her and hangovers sucked but tequila wasn’t too bad because, well, it brought Waverly Earp to you.


End file.
